Joseph is a quiet man. The only thing he enjoys more than nature and the hunt is being left alone…but IDENTITY BY SHANE L. COFFEY

Joseph is a quiet man.
The only thing he enjoys more than nature and the hunt is being left alone…but
when a refugee elf appears in his forest with a war band at her heels, this
solitary hunter has only moments to decide whether he wants to become something
more. Unfortunately, he quickly learns that the entire clan of refugee elves has already made that decision for him.

Prepare for a tale of
adventure and suspense in which prophecy goes only so far. Through chases and
battles, destiny and grief, the Windrider clan will learn their true fate, and
Joseph will have one last chance to test his mettle and choose his Identity.

REVIEW:

Identity

Shane Coffey

978-1-62420-180-6

Review

by Courtney Rene

This is Joseph’s story, the
beginning of his tale, although not the beginning of his life.Joseph is a loner, and he quite likes it that
way from what I can tell.He is a man that
enjoys the forest and the hunt and with the death of his love, he wants nothing
more than to hide away in the forest and survive.But life never ends up the way we want it,
and Joseph’s life takes a sharp turn when an elf appears in his forest with dogs
on her tail, and a prophecy to share that will that will change his solitary
life forever as well as question his very existence.

What a fun read this story
was.It was quick and entertaining with
fantastic characters that lead you on chases and through battles with an old
world fantasy charm you have to love, or at least I did.The question of what would I do in Joseph’s
shoes played in my head many times throughout the story.

I give the book a 5 star rating and it deserves it. The author has a way of
landing you at the first sentence right into the action and never giving you a
chance to slow it down.I can’t wait to
see what comes next in this series.

EXCERPT

After
another half-mile, he turned right and leaped out of the stream on the same
side he'd entered, heading toward his most recent campsite. He hoped it would
appear to the hunters that their quarry was trying to double back and confuse
her trail. The dogs might pick up his real scent once they reached the camp,
but he was all through these woods every day, half the time dragging bleeding
game or offal. If they could pick up his freshest trail amidst all that, then
they would eventually find him wherever he fled, so he pinned his hopes on the
belief that they couldn't.

With
practiced movements, he scaled a large poplar and shoved the elf's clothing
scraps into a high fork that was invisible from the ground. When the dogs took
to baying at an obviously deserted tree, with any luck it would force their
masters to assume they'd lost the trail.

With
a couple of deft leaps Joseph was back on the ground, retracing his steps to
the stream as closely as he could without running into the hunters. He trusted
his stealth, however, and ventured close enough to catch a glimpse of them
through the underbrush as they passed; three large men on black horses with two
more on foot looking for sign and holding the dogs. The riders were not heavily
armored, but they sat their saddles as though accustomed to being so, and their
faces were cold and stern.

He
considered climbing a tree and felling them all with arrows, but he had no
quarrel with them, no notion of why the elf girl had felt compelled to run in
the first place, no just cause to do these men harm. Trusting his speed as much
as his stealth, he observed them for a time, but they spoke little and gave
away nothing that helped him to understand the strange goings-on in his woods.

Finally,
once confident they would not immediately pick up his trail from the campsite,
he sped back to the stream and the elven woman waiting in the bank dug-out. She
was clearly overjoyed at his return, but he motioned for silence and she
remained so.

"Now,"
Joseph said quietly, keeping one ear open to the forest sounds outside the
recess, "just what is going on here? Who are you?"

"I
am Kaillë Windsong, daughter of the chieftain of the Windrider clan."

"How
do you come to be here, and in such a state as I found you?"

"My
village was attacked. Many died and many fled. I have been running for nearly
two days. I do not know why they still follow me."

"Why
do you call me Azrith?"

Now
the elf was clearly puzzled. "I don't understand."

"I
don't know you. By your introduction, I take it you didn't expect me to, but
you seem to believe you know me, and you call me this name I have never heard.
I would have that explained before things get even more out of hand."

"It
is the most ancient legend of the Windrider clan. In the hour of greatest need,
when wicked men attack, the survivors will find Azrith, a man of the wood who
will bring deliverance."

"I
am sorry, Kaillë, but I am not this man."

"But
you must—"

"My
name is Joseph, and I'm a simple hunter. I don't plan on 'delivering' anybody
today."

"But
there was more, and everything rings true...apart from the name. Isn't it
possible—"

"It
isn't."

"But—"

"I
will hear no more of this! You say you do not know why these men are after
you?"

"No."

"Well,
it's plain enough you aren't carrying anything, so it must be something about
who you are. A chieftain's daughter could fetch quite a ransom."

"No,"
Kaillë disagreed, "there would be no one to pay it. Father and the rest of
my family did not survive." Her voice was even and calm, betraying no pain
or anger.

Damn
her elven stoicism.Scream,
weep, do something.
"Alright," he continued, "not for ransom...then what? What could
they possibly gain by your death or capture?"

"I'm
sorry, Az...Joseph... I truly do not know."

"Well,
I'll..." Suddenly Joseph stopped speaking, tilting his head toward the
mouth of the dug-out. "The birds are alarmed. Your enemies must be
searching upstream. If they pick up a scent again, we're done for. We have to
run."

Kaillë
stood and Joseph was glad to see she had already gathered and tied his
oversized cloak so she could move quickly. He motioned for her to follow,
leaping over the fallen alder and dropping on the far side. Once there, he
turned, reaching up to help the much shorter elf down from the crest of the
fallen trunk. Just as their hands clasped, a raucous horn blast smote the
woods, followed by the frenzied barking of two dogs. Kaillë had been spotted.

Joseph's
mind raced. He never doubted his skills in the woods, but they had not been
pitted against human minds since the wars. Despite the strangeness of his
situation, he felt a pang of guilt for failing to note the enemy's approach
before it was too late, but there was no time now for apologies. Instead, he
clenched Kaillë's delicate hands and dragged her down from the tree, pulling
her into his arms as he darted into the woods, sensing the limp weariness in
her frame as he carried her.

He
had to move, had to get them into thick enough brush that the men were forced
to abandon their horses, at the very least, for he could never hope to
outdistance mounted hunters. Still, he realized even that tactic would not be
enough, not now. As he moved from the stream, he knew the dark-clad men had
seen him, however briefly. Now that they had reason to follow this other scent,
they had no doubt picked up in his camp. Now that they were this close to a
fresh trail, there would be no evading those dogs.

One
problem at a time, Joseph chided
himself. He knew of a place half a mile into the woods where he thought he
could force the riders to foot, draw them into a marshy part of a feeder stream
course, gain the high ground. He just wasn't sure he could get there with a
spent elf maid in tow.

He
barely had the time to try. Charging uphill, he passed a deer run that
paralleled the stream and was horrified to realize by the approaching cadence
of hooves that the hunters had found it, thundering toward his path just yards
behind. Digging his feet into the earth, he tried for a desperate burst of
speed into the brush, but with the sudden hiss of a whip, the breath seized in
his throat, his feet flying out from under him as Kaillë tumbled from his arms.